Harmony
by Jessie Marsh
Summary: A/U circa series three onwards He hadn't realised how much he'd missed her until she was gone again. He couldn't wait to see her and make up all past mistakes. He didn't know how to respond to the events of harmony.
1. prologue

_hiya, i know i've been away for a while, but this story has been beavering in my mind for ages and i can't put it off any longer! this is just the prologue to start off, hope you enjoy!_

_Jessie xx_

_disclaimer: Paramount is big brother, just borrowing his toys for a while..._

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**Prologue**

"Captain! Doctor! I understand you have your differences on this matter…"

"This is a private conversation, doctor!" Picard spat angrily, not taking his attention away from Beverly.

"I understand that captain, but not in my sickbay!"

Silence fell as sharply as Beverly Crusher's head turned. The staff paused mid-task, the patients ceased to make any movement or noise. Even the captain paused mid-sentence.

Katherine Pulaski stared fast as Beverly's blue eyes bore into her, seeing her for the first time. "Please, doctor," Katherine indicated toward a private room. Beverly stood still until Dr. Selar moved forward at which point she walked into the room, followed by the Vulcan. Katherine watched them pass then returned her steely gaze to Picard.

"My ready room, ten minutes," Picard growled softly and turned abruptly on his heel.

Katherine barely nodded before dismissing his presence and entering the side room, the rest of the sick-bay gradually returned to its background hubbub as the door closed behind her. Dr. Crusher sat on the biobed as Dr. Selar completed her physical examination. It was an annoyance as far as Beverly was concerned to have to be on the other side of the tricorder and it never got any pleasanter for her. Katherine recognised Crusher's famous temper as much as her brilliant reputation; she was glad to have been assigned to the _Enterprise_ to replace Crusher while the other woman went to head Starfleet Medical for a year.

"I am sorry Dr. Crusher," she began. She didn't want the woman to hate her, she knew how tight the sick-bay staff were, if she offended their boss her job would be harder. Beverly for her part turned her head; it could have been to Dr. Selar as a silent continuation of their conversation or as a way of ignoring her successor.

"Doctor," Dr. Selar said simply in response to her boss' look whether it was to her or not. "I need to…"

"Not yet," Beverly growled.

The Vulcan replied with a stern glance. Beverly sighed, knowing that she deserved it and turned to Katherine.

"Dr. Pulaski, I must apologise," she began, noting that the other woman showed no signs of forgiveness. "I'm sorry."

Katherine nodded curtly.

"I should be getting back," Beverly got off the bench and straightened her lab coat. She looked around nostalgically. It had only been her sickbay for a year, but that first year on the _Enterprise_ had truly felt to her more like home than any other ship she had been aboard in recent years. "Look after the place, eh?"


	2. One Year On

One Year On

It had been the longest twelve months that Jean-Luc Picard could remember. Adventures in debates of morality, transporter incidents and lessons in humanity had taken the _Enterprise_ in turn. Still reeling from the near loss of his first officer, Jean-Luc Picard had found himself reassessing his situation for the three-hundredth and sixty-fifth time that year. He had of course, sanctioned Beverly's secondment to Starfleet Medical for a year; not that he would have been able to stop her going. When Wesley had requested to stay aboard his ship, he had his reserves; he had come to grow accustomed to the lad over the first year despite his initial shock at meeting him. Hell, he had been shocked enough when Wesley had exited the turbo lift, when Beverly had followed her son out he had been doubtful for a moment that he was still standing. He had not seen her in nearly ten years but at that moment it might have been only the day before that her, Jack and himself had been … younger. He couldn't shake off the feeling that their ship had sailed so to speak, and he certainly hadn't managed to anchor any attempt to dock it. However, when he had last spoken to her, about Wesley's request to stay, she had given the impression that she wouldn't have been happy to leave him with anyone else. It was as though nothing had changed between them. He had even managed to bond with Wesley over the time she had been away; he knew she would be happy to know this. And in a little over four hours, he would be able to tell her. If he was honest, he felt a little giddy about seeing her again. They were meeting at a Star base where they would also take on board a Dr. X and his 'Egg' in readiness for their next mission. He hadn't a clue what he was going to say to her, it wasn't as if at their age and standing he could simply go up to her with a bouquet of flowers and say 'hey, you know I've always held a torch for you, how about it?'

Beverly extricated herself from the somewhat boring conversation of Dr. X. She was less interested in the ins and outs of his fantastic device than in seeing her son again. And Jean-Luc. Wesley had sent reasonably regular letters, keeping her up-to-date with his progress in school and as an acting ensign. The Starfleet reports she had access to had filled in the rest. Reading the adventures that _Enterprise_ had experienced while she had been neck-high in political bureaucracy, assessing and authorising research proposals, leading lectures and seminars and generally doing everything except practising medicine, made her nostalgic for the variety that life on a starship brought. She tried to focus on this instead of how she was going to feel seeing Jean-Luc Picard again. He had been one of her and Jack's closest friends and they had spent many happy times together when they had been … younger. It had been the only hesitation she had had about taking the job aboard _Enterprise_ in the first place, seeing him after such a distance in time. They hadn't spoken since the funeral. But as awkward as she had thought it would be it had been worse when he asked her to transfer. Her temper had risen straight away; she had been able to contain it only to inform him that she had asked for the posting. This had seemed to placate him. Ironically it had only been her assurance that the assignment at Medical would only be temporary and that she would return that had seemed to satisfy him in signing her off his crew. Now, well, she was nervous about seeing him again.

Three hours to go. He contemplated ordering an increase in warp, but decided against it; he had no real reason to hasten their rendezvous other than a school-boy sized ego and lust. So, he settled himself in his quarters with his volume of Shakespeare, opening where he had left of, somewhere in the middle of act two of King Lear.

Three hours to go, she brushed her hair out, ready to shower and dress for the evening. _Enterprise _was due to dock at 19:00 hours and there was, after the necessary docking procedures, an expectancy that most of the crew would make use of the bar and restaurant on the base. She had forwarded a message to the captain of the ship that she would be in attendance at half past eight. She had resisted the need to add that she had something to tell him; it would be easier face to face.

"_Bridge to Captain._"

Jean-Luc awoke to the chirp of the ship's communicator system. He acknowledged that they had arrived at the starbase and were initiating docking protocol. He assented that he would make his way to the bridge in due course. Replacing the heavy collection of literature back in its customary place, he considered his itinerary for the evening: he was expected to make the usual pleasantries with the officer in command of the base; meet with their esteemed guest and pass him quickly onto Riker who would be making the necessary arrangements for his stay along with LaForge who was in charge of the safe storage of the 'egg'; cast his eye over the daily reports as per; and meet a particularly vivacious red-head in the base bar.

The bar was bustling as it had been every one of the three nights that she had been on the station. Ships and delegates coming in and out of the base, availing themselves of the facilities; luckily there were a collection of scientists holding Dr. X's attention tonight, she was sure she didn't need to have to remove herself from him a second time that day so that she could spend uninterrupted time with her friend. He hadn't replied to her message, she assumed he was busy. She didn't like to think that it had anything to do with their last argument aboard the ship: he had taken objection to something she had done, as per. Smiling to herself, she remembered how Selar had been trying to do her physical at the time.

The last time she had been aboard the ship, they had been in the middle of a row while Selar was trying to do her physical. He couldn't even remember what the argument had been about, something to do with her assignment of resources that hadn't been properly sanctioned. If he was honest, he knew that his response must have seemed exaggerated to the situation and that it had more to do with not wanting her to go. He grinned in the mirror as he took in his appearance, he still cut a fine figure, he thought. All work done for the day, he had secured them a two day docking at the base so many of the crew and civilians were also making their way off the ship as he moved through the corridors.

She looked up at the doorway more frequently as the time drew nearer. The school-girl butterflies in her stomach were in no way settling with the red wine she was drinking. It wasn't synthehol tonight; it wasn't that sort of night. Eventually a familiar figure appeared in the entrance to the bar, the butterflies fought for dominance. She watched as he made his way to the bar and finished the slither left in her glass.

He stood at the bar and ordered his drink, not synthehol, not tonight. He leant on his right elbow and glanced around the bar, he saw a few members of his crew milling about. A presence beside him caused him to turn back to the bar.

"Hello, Captain," silky San Franciscan tones filled his ear and tickled with his senses.

He turned to his left, rose one eyebrow, "Can I get you a drink?"

"Red wine, thanks," she smiled, ruby red lips against porcelain skin.

He added her order to his own as the bar-tender returned with his own glass of the same. "So, doctor," he drank in her appearance whilst waiting to drink until she had hers. She was wearing a blue velveteen dress, long-sleeved and covering but leaving her shoulders bare. She had lightened her hair since serving on _Enterprise_ but it suited her, and him.

"It's good to see you, Jean-Luc," she replied sincerely. The desire to flirt like the girl in her wanted to so desperately was repressed by the rational part of her mind, even when he wasn't her serving officer, there were still more hurdles between them than could ever be vaulted. "Shall we?"

He followed her gaze to a table away near the window. He agreed silently and took a sip of his drink as he followed her, trying not to focus solely on the sway of her hips. She was to be under his command again, and even if she wasn't, there were at least a million reasons why it was inappropriate for him to be watching her hips.

"I'm sorry I didn't reply to your message," he said as they sat down.

"It's ok," she smiled. "I know how busy you get."

"So, how was your year?" he asked.

For two hours and three glasses of wine each, they discussed the ins and outs of Starfleet protocols, events that Beverly had heard about but never satisfied her curiosity on, whether or not she had enjoyed teaching, whether or not she had managed to do any teaching, how Wesley had been getting on in school and as an ensign and how she'd have to ask Will that and whether Worf really had been tucking him up with a story at night, apparently. For two hours and three glasses of wine each, he avoided telling her how he felt and she avoided telling him that she had something to tell him. It was as the waiter brought them their fourth round, where they exchanged wine for liqueurs, that they each tried to break the ground of the conversation simultaneously and in different directions.

"So how has Katherine Pulaski been treating your sickbay?" she asked.

"Will and Deanna are still pretending that they weren't once in love," he stated.

She blinked, gossip wasn't normally his tack. He blinked; it must have been longer than he thought that he had had real alcohol for him to blurt that one out.

"She's been very good actually," he decided to pretend he hadn't spoken.

"Well, that's their want," she replied carefully.

"But I'll be glad to have you back," he studied her very carefully. He hoped he hadn't just made a fool of himself and also hoped that he hadn't just given the impression that Katherine Pulaski had been anything other than an inconvenient thorn in his sickbay for the last twelve months.

"Jean-Luc," she bit her lip, almost wishing that the Will and Deanna story had taken precedence.

"What?"

"I'm not coming back."


	3. The Longest Night

_hi all, thanks for the reviews! i'm glad you're enjoying this, here's the next part!_

_Jessie xx_

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_The Longest Night_

"I beg your pardon?" the effect of alcohol helped to slow his reaction and his question.

"I'm not coming back," the warm thrill of alcohol and being with him wore off as she fought to maintain her composure.

He nodded slowly. She needed to explain. Quickly.

"I've been offered a posting aboard the _Harmony,_" she explained. "As First Officer."

He frowned. Her elucidation had far from clarifying the situation made it more elusive to his comprehension. He reached for his glass and took a sip of the warming liqueur, allowing the silence to grow as he contemplated both the slightly bitter fruity taste and his own naivety in assuming that she would be coming back to _Enterprise_, to him.

"I would have told you sooner," she hated herself, and his silence was not helping to dissuade that. "Only, I, well, I wanted to tell you face to face, and well, I only just accepted the job this morning." _After you didn't reply to my message,_ she added harshly in her mind and immediately reproached herself. It had been an irrational act of anger that had taken the decision despite the reasonable debate that she had already been through.

"But, you're a doctor," he said uselessly. He instantly regretted what he had said, she was not just a doctor, he knew that and she was hardly going to appreciate him pigeon-holing her. "I mean…congratulations?"

Luckily, she laughed.

He managed to offer a genuine smile in return. After all, he could hardly judge anyone for moving up the command path, and he certainly couldn't begrudge it his friend.

"Thank you," she dipped her head slightly. "I'm sorry, Jean. I did want to come back, but…"

"No," he interrupted her. "If you have the opportunity to … I understand."

"Really?" she raised her eyebrow. "So, what was all that about Will and Deanna?"

"Oh, just idle gossip," he brushed embarrassedly. "So, first officer?"

"Yes," she noted his second neat side-step, he would not be getting away so easily as he wanted from that, but she would indulge him for a while, she had been dying to tell someone anyway having realised that despite working closely with people at Medical they had not become anything more than colleagues. Nana had been congratulatory, but Beverly suspected she was disappointed in her grand-daughter's decision to move away from medicine. "Primarily _Harmony_ is responsible for research, scientific and medical, so it's not so far removed an idea as you might think. I'll still be involved in medicine, just not so much the practising side. Mind you, I haven't been much this last year anyway! We'll have a number of students on board at any time, and as XO I'll have the opportunity to mentor them and so forth."

"I'm pleased for you, Beverly," he said sincerely. "If it's what you want…"

She narrowed her eyes slightly. The sincerity in her friend's voice she did not doubt, but there was definitely something behind his second statement. "It is," she said in a measured tone. "I took the commanders test for a reason, Jean-Luc."

"I know," he said hastily, kicking himself for letting her think he doubted her. "I know that."

"Come on," she opted to tease the situation to a lighter tone, not wanting to part on bad terms. "How many doctors do you know who get to be first officer?"

"Not many," he smiled. "Come, let's celebrate."

He called over the waiter and requested champagne. He plagued her for details of her new captain, Captain T'al; their first assignment; whether she had told Wesley yet. She played with the stem of her glass slightly and seemed almost embarrassed to ask if it would be ok for Wes to stay aboard _Enterprise_ still if he didn't want to join her.

"I know he's not your concern," she cursed her son's independent nature. "But, if he doesn't want to…"

"It would be my pleasure to keep him on _Enterprise_," Jean-Luc said honestly. "Although I will encourage him not to neglect his mother."

She hit him playfully. They discussed where _Enterprise_ was off to next, suddenly Beverly found a reason not to be going back, and one more conversation with that doctor was likely to lead her to make very unethical suggestions of where to put his 'egg'. After two hours of talking and drinking, celebrating and reminiscing, she decided to broach the subject again. Whether it was the alcohol making her bold or the heart growing fonder at future absence, she couldn't say. She couldn't even be sure that he had been going down the road she was about to, but something told her it was worth pursuing.

"So, Will and Deanna?" she leant back slightly to enjoy the support of the chair. The champagne had been followed by cocktails of varying colours and intensities.

"Yep," he grinned, relaxing similarly.

"I knew there was something between them," she mused. "So, what's been happening?"

Jean-Luc filled in with what little he had been able to determine had changed in their relationship focussing on the protectiveness that Will had shown the ship's counsellor when she had become impregnated by a life-form eager to learn about the human experience. Beverly listened attentively and offered her own opinions on her former colleagues' situation whilst enjoying the sound of his voice washing over her. Jean-Luc told her about the incident just past where Deanna had stayed at Will's bedside as he fought against what they had considered certain death.

"I will admit," he sighed. "It has made me consider, a lot."

"About?" she murmured.

"Life. Love," he expanded on his thought, leaning forward and resting his hand over hers. "About, I don't know, taking chances before it's too late."

She blinked several times, the feel of his hand covering hers, the tender implications behind his words combining with the considerably fuzzy feeling in her head to make her giddy and to leave inhibitions behind.

"Jean…"

"I know, that I have no place, no right to be saying this to you, not now, not after everything we've been through, not considering everything that's to come…"

"Who cares about what's to come?" she murmured drunkenly, suddenly cursing that she wasn't going back to _Enterprise_, terrified of what he might mean, daring to hope that he would mean it. "That's tomorrow's business."

"Beverly," it was now or never, the words he had always wanted to say but had never had the guts to before. "I…"

"Captain!"

Jean-Luc cursed the admiral in every language he knew, under his breath, in a millisecond.

"Hello, doctor," the admiral whose name escaped them both beamed. "I hears you are to be embarking on the _Harmony_ when it arrives tomorrow…"

They nodded politely, tried to pretend that they were no way near as drunk as the admiral, even though they were long past him, Jean-Luc hastily removed his hand from Beverly's and they managed to perpetuate neutral conversation until the admiral remembered that he had someone important to talk to on the other side of the room and took his leave of them as abruptly as he had appeared.

"Well," Jean-Luc exhaled as they relished in the silence that remained in the admiral's wake.

"I think I need a drink," Beverly sighed. "How the hell is that man still an admiral?"

"I have no idea," Jean-Luc rubbed his chin.

"Listen," she hesitated. "Do you want to come back to my quarters, here? That way we can have a drink without…"

"Yes," he startled her with his sudden decision to stand up. "I, sorry, I'd like that."

They made their way through the base to the accommodations uninterrupted. She keyed in the security code she had been given and admitted them entrance. He looked around the room, comfortably, uniformly serviced. She ignored the replicator and pulled a bottle of scotch out of one of her bags which were neatly packed along the wall waiting to be beamed aboard _Harmony_ when it docked the following day.

"What time are you due to report tomorrow?" he asked idly wondering if it were wise for them to continue drinking or even if it were for them to have started in the first place.

"The ship doesn't dock until two," she poured them each a generous measure before placing the bottle on the side and walking over to him. "And it's expected to be late."

He raised his eye-brow in response to the twinkle in her eye.

"Is it now?" he accepted the tumbler she passed him.

"Are you not meant to be in meetings all day tomorrow?" she asked.

"I intend to delegate most of the actual talking and listening to my first officer," he teased.

"Pity the fool," she grinned. "I must remember never to become your first officer."

"Oh, I think you'll find that all captains are apt to a spot of delegation," he sipped the scotch, savouring its taste.

"So," she licked her lips. "You're saying that all captains are alike?"

"I think you'll find," he found himself taking a step closer toward her. "That we all have our unique faults."

"Is that so?" she closed the distance between them. "And what might your weaknesses be?"

He allowed one hand to trace the line of her face, smooth skin tingling against his fingertips, loose auburn strands tickling his nail. "Too many to number," he murmured.

She leant in to his touch, his voice low, gravely and very sexy. "Name one," she goaded him gently.

"Beverly," he growled, his hand cupping her face now, his eyes met with hers.

Neither of them would afterwards be able to explain what they were doing. Whether it was a combination of excitement, pent up emotion, love, repression, or alcohol; the two of them paused for exactly half a second before falling toward each other. Lips met lips, bodies met bodies and the scotch was downed in giddy intoxication, the glasses left empty on the lounge coffee table.


	4. The Morning After

_Hiya, sorry, sorry, sorry to take so long with this fic! Been really busy with various (un-fic and therefore boring) stuff. But here is the next (sorry it's kinda short) part... enjoy!_

_Jessie xx_

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_The Morning After_

The alarm going off on Beverly's bedside table was nothing compared with the clanging of alarm bells in Jean-Luc Picard's head when he realised he was in her bed on the Starbase and not, as he probably ought to have been, in his quarters on _Enterprise_. It was also nothing but a mouse coughing in relation to the tolling of his mental faculties as they groaned against the weight of his hangover. Beverly seemed similarly displeased with the tinny little beeping sound as she leant across him to silence it and groaned. Her arm fell limp after the exertion, falling onto her chest before being quickly removed.

"Oh," was all she managed to utter as she sat up sharply. "Oh."

He coughed, he could think of nothing to say.

"Oh," she repeated. "Jean-Luc…"

He nodded, his eyes hadn't left her face. He was desperately trying to work out if it was an 'oh no' or an 'oh no'.

"Hello," she settled on.

"Good morning," he replied, his voice gruff from embarrassment and dehydration.

She shook her head slowly. "No, it's not."

He narrowed his eyes at her response then laughed softly as her hand passed over her forehead. Clearly, her own hangover was equal to his and was casting a dampener on waking. At least, he hoped that's what it was – not a reaction to finding him in her bed.

"What time is it?" she murmured, closing her eyes and falling back against the pillows on her side of the bed.

He grinned to himself, she must have set the alarm in the first place, before squinting at the small display on the cabinet. "Eight-thirty," he informed her.

She groaned in response, "Why?"

He correctly suspected that her question was merely rhetorical and referring to the inconvenience at being woken up at all, so he simply enjoyed the comforting softness of the bedding.

"Jean?" she said quietly after some time had passed.

"Mmm?"

"Last night…"

He hastily reached over and found her hand with his. He didn't want to hear that she was sorry, that it had been a mistake, that she regretted it. She turned to face him. Her eyes searching his face for the signs she was certain she would see there; that he was sorry, that it had been a mistake, that he regretted it. Wondering whether she could trust her instincts that he didn't think any of those things, she felt the need to continue speaking.

"I'm sorry, if I did anything…"

"Ssh," he whispered, placing a finger softly on her lips to silence her. He contemplated how to express himself in a way that would leave no misunderstanding, that would allow her to see how much he appreciated her, loved her, needed her. Realising that his silence would only be worrying her, he replaced his finger with his lips, briefly, gently, reassuringly.

"Last night," he spoke for her. "Was wonderful. I've really missed you, Beverly. I don't think I even realised how much. And, I know that there are more reasons than there are stars in the universe to have regrets about what happened, but I don't subscribe to any of them."

She marvelled at his way of saying the simplest thing in such a poetic and moving way. And whether or not she just applied those qualities to everything he said. Either way, he was probably waiting for a reply. Unable to form the right words to mirror his sentiment as perfectly as she wanted to, she shifted her position to kiss him with a subtle passion that far from giving her the thinking time she needed, served instead to remind herself that she had felt this way about him for a long time. After the kiss, she observed him for a moment before simply saying: "I missed you too."

He smiled, genuinely, for the first time in what felt like years. After nearly twenty years of loving the woman in his arms that morning, he knew that this was the start of something. It wasn't going to be easy, it hadn't been so far, but he felt with as much certainty as could be had in this life, that something had changed, something had begun.

She laid down against his chest and a small sigh of contentment escaped her lips. She felt a kind of freedom that she couldn't quite explain, yet she knew that something had changed between them, something that meant that more changes, more nights like last night, could happen.

"Damn," she muttered.

"What?"

"I said I'd meet Wesley for breakfast at nine," she groaned, relinquishing her pleasant position and pushing herself out of the bed. "I'll send him a message, make it half nine. I'm going to have a quick shower, if that's alright?"

"Yes," he said neutrally. "I mean, yes of course it's alright. I need to get back to the ship and change before … can I see you again, tonight?"

She glanced at him quizzically from where she now was across the room at a terminal. "How about lunch? About one o'clock?"

He crossed himself, if the _Harmony_ was due to dock that afternoon, she would be busy tonight. He nodded, though he was sure of one thing: one o'clock wouldn't come soon enough.


End file.
